


Culmination

by kerithwyn



Series: Quantum Entanglements [15]
Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/pseuds/kerithwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Finally.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Culmination

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Quantum Entanglements series, post- "One Night in October". Canon takes a hike.
> 
> Contains a nod to Jaune Chat's ["Going to Miss Over There"](http://jaune-chat.livejournal.com/105614.html), which might have been the first bit of Olivia/alt-Lincoln I read and set my tastes forever.
> 
> Thanks to miss_porcupine for telling me to do it better, and samjohnsson and monanotlisa for beta. (Very important fic! Needed multiple eyes!)

Nothing they've attempted has had any effect on her side, so after a few weeks the assorted consultants get the bright idea to have Olivia and her Cortexiphan powers try to interface with the machine on the other side. She crosses over at mid-afternoon and they're up all night working at it, to no avail.

The sun's starting to come in through the high windows when Walternate calls off the attempt and the various technicians scatter. Olivia expects to go home, a journey as simple as a walk over to the bridge and a long, tedious drive back up to Boston, when Lincoln glances over at her. "Breakfast? I know a place."

His voice is warm with invitation and home is an empty apartment and a stale box of cereal, so she agrees. "A place" turns out also to be in Boston, but rank really does have its privileges and Lincoln commandeers a fast 'copter (faster than any in her world) to make the trip much shorter than usual. She's being kidnapped again, Olivia thinks drowsily, but this time she has no inclination to fight. She dozes a little in the air, too worn by the strain of trying to access mental abilities that won't appear to appreciate the sights.

Lincoln takes her to a greasy spoon, the kind of place that looks like a ptomaine palace from the outside and serves simple, delicious food. In her world, this diner might brew the city's finest coffee; here she settles for a cup of strong tea and a bagel, well toasted, and some smoked salmon. For some reason, maybe because the authorities are better about pollution control, the fish on this side tastes remarkable.

Olivia stares, amused, as Lincoln douses a stack of pancakes with honey syrup. Maple trees, she recalls, were another victim of the Blight over here. He notices her gaze and grins across the table without embarrassment. "Sweet tooth."

"Apparently!" she says, smiling back, and watches him demolish the stack with uncomplicated enjoyment.

When they're done and walking out she notices--

Without thinking Olivia lifts a hand to his mouth and wipes away a trace of syrup. She's about to explain to Lincoln's startled look but once more, on impulse, her hand rises to her own mouth and she tastes honey, and him, on her lips.

Lincoln watches her, eyes tracking every motion, and seemingly forgets to breathe until he finally takes a long, shuddering gulp of air. "Olivia...my apartment is nearby."

"I remember," she tells him. "I remember everything." It's not a decision being made here; this is something inevitable, inescapable. And for once, a fate she desires. Her body is tingling, reacting already to the brief touch. She reaches over to take his hand and they walk together, holding hands, his thumb tracing random patterns and sending pleasant shivers through her skin.

Inside his doorway Lincoln moves in to kiss her but Olivia leans away, smiling so he'll know she's not rejecting him. It's just that he'll taste like honey, and she tastes like...fish.

"You mind if I...?" she waves vaguely toward the bathroom and he nods. She uses the restroom, scrubs at her teeth with a toothpaste-covered finger, and avails herself of Lincoln's mouthwash. Olivia examines her reflection and is relieved to discover that she doesn't have a single doubt, not one, and has no intention of changing her mind. Somewhere in another universe, she thinks wryly, Astrid is cheering.

When she comes out Lincoln is standing near the bed, and she can see his Show Me and ear cuff on the table. Off-duty, both of them, hopefully for the duration.

"Lincoln..." She looks at him, wanting, not knowing how to ask for what she needs until she does. "Tell me you know who I am."

There's no hesitation in him, either. He crosses the room and brings his hands up to her shoulders, leaning in. She thinks he's going to kiss her, but his mouth grazes past her cheek to hover next to her ear.

"Your name is Olivia Dunham," Lincoln says, his voice a caress. "You're an FBI agent who works for a secret Fringe Division. Your colleagues are Walter Bishop, who is brilliant yet mad, and Astrid Farnsworth, who is as efficient as she is adorable. You were recently joined by an Agent Lee who is, if I might add, quite a handsome fellow."

Olivia feels herself smiling, relaxing as his hands stroke down her arms. They come up again to slide her jacket away and it falls, unheeded, to the floor.

"Your sister Rachel lives in Chicago with her husband Greg and their daughter Ella. You worry about them because while Ella is perfect, you think Greg is a dillhole."

She giggles reflexively because the slang is perfect and so, so true. Lincoln's hands drop down and begin undoing the buttons of her blouse, slowly, one by one.

"You grew up in Jacksonville, went to boarding school as a teenager, signed up for the Marines at eighteen, went to college at Northwestern, and joined the FBI right after graduation. You drink too much coffee and hate the color yellow. You--"

"Lincoln Lee," Olivia says, "you talk too much."

She closes the brief distance between them for this first, not-first kiss. Olivia does remember everything, but she perceives the emotions and sensations from their previous encounters through a filter of the other Olivia's persona. This is her own, undiluted.

It's not the most perfect kiss in the history of kissing--they're both too wound up to lay any claim to perfection. But Lincoln is warm against her and tastes as sweet as she'd expected. When Olivia draws back to see his eyes, she finds him mirroring her own smile, laden with intent.

They strip each other without ceremony, wanting to be close, needing to recreate what they'd shared before in better context. They both know this first time will be fast, and they move in tandem toward the same goal: She reaches for the condoms in the bed stand at the same time he does, their fingers clashing and wrestling for the privilege.

She's wet, she's been wet since the diner and now she's too impatient to wait. She pulls him down and finally, finally he's deep inside her. Her arms circle around and draw him nearer still, and together they find their rhythm, Lincoln moving above her until they both cry out.

They fall apart laughing, and it's the only appropriate reaction to this situation, the absurdity of *them.* Olivia is almost giddy with how effortless this is with Lincoln, how comfortable. It's almost (almost) enough to make her feel grateful for her previous sojourn here, because there's no first-time awkwardness at all. She already knows his body and how it responds to her, and how she responds in kind to his touch. All the rest is just...perspective, and Olivia's desire to claim these new memories for herself.

She and Lincoln spend lazy moments kissing like teenagers, exploring, while the tension builds again. She slides down to take him in her mouth, relearning his scent and taste, until with a gasp Lincoln draws her up to settle over his hips. A brief fumble with another condom and then Olivia rides him for what feels like hours, their hands stroking everywhere and mouths locked together, her hair falling like a curtain around their faces and blocking out all other worlds.

Sometime during the afternoon Lincoln orders takeout, a ridiculous amount of Chinese food. When the doorbell rings, he throws on a brief robe and Olivia can hear the delivery girl's wolf whistle from the bedroom. The robe drops as soon as the door shuts again and Lincoln finds an old sheet to throw down on the living room floor. They feed each other, naked, giggling as rice flies everywhere. Olivia watches him do obscene things to a spring roll and does her best to duplicate his expertise but cracks up laughing instead. Sauce from the orange chicken drips down onto his stomach and it's absolutely required that she leans over and licks it off; he returns the favor, "accidentally" squirting a packet of duck sauce over her breasts and belly. They play with their food and each other and she'll never look at a piece of General Tso's the same way again.

Afterward they're both filthy (there's *rice* in her *hair*, seriously, she hasn't been in a food fight since she was six and Nicky dumped a bowl of oatmeal over her head) and they stumble to the shower. Lincoln's hands knead through her hair, careful not to drip shampoo in her eyes, while she runs the soap over his body. When her hair is clean Olivia returns the favor while his hands roam freely, two fingers suddenly gliding inside her as smooth as silk. Her soap-slick hand slips down his back, sliding over his ass and in between and she doesn't miss the way he goes still.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, a question, as if she had any inclination to refuse anything he might want. A quick towel dry later, her hair still a wet rope down her back, and Olivia is buckled into her first strap-on. She's hesitant at first, unsure of her movements and not wanting to hurt him. His voice urges her on and she quickly finds a rhythm as she fucks Lincoln into the mattress, his hands clawing at the sheets, calling out her name.

He's sprawled boneless and sated as she unstraps and she's about ready to call it a night when Lincoln rolls over, kisses her, and begins to work his way down her body again. He licks her to orgasm, the first time fast and startling, the second time slow and sweet as the honey she tasted on him earlier; the third time, shuddering on the edge of overstimulation and trembling around his fingers and his mouth, Olivia comes with tears in her eyes.

Exhaustion has them in its grip and she barely feels him pull a sheet up to cover them both. Lincoln folds her in his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head, and Olivia thinks that this is a universe she doesn't want to leave.

And they sleep.


End file.
